


Oh Henry, My Henry

by flowerflood



Category: Frankenstein - Mary Shelley
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, M/M, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:28:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23068492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowerflood/pseuds/flowerflood
Summary: Victor loves Henry. Henry loves Victor.Henry dies.
Relationships: Henry Clerval/Victor Frankenstein
Comments: 3
Kudos: 31





	Oh Henry, My Henry

**Author's Note:**

> Sup my guys. It's time to write fanfic about my favourite book and the gays in it.
> 
> Buckle up and let's get sad

“Henry, dearest, dearest Henry, I don't-”

_The cold air hits his face hard enough for it to feel as if he was punched. Still, he fights against it, steps forward, alongside the man leading him. A dreary feeling fills his chest. A part of him knows what awaits him, or at least fears what does._

“Henry, my love, my dearest Clerval, I can't be without you. How could I leave Geneva without you?” 

Victor's hands cup Henry's cheeks, tears falling from his face onto the cotton of the sheets. 

“You must. Never will my father permit me to go with you, but that shall not stop you. Don't let me hold you back, Victor.”

_He starts shaking, despite the heavy coat he is wrapped into, which is supposed to keep out the cold, but doing a rather miserable job at it. Maybe it is not the cold that causes him to shake, though, but the feelings flooding through him._

_He is pale and fragile, and the man leading him must think it a miracle that this pale, fragile boy wasn't blown away by the harsh winds yet._

“Never will I leave you alone. Never will I desert you, Henry, I promise you.” 

Victor almost hiccups, stuggling to blink away the tears. It is rate to see the boy cry. He almost never does, especially in front of others. In front of Henry, though, he knows he can. Henry won't mind.

“You needn't desert me, my dear Victor.” Henry's voice is almost a whisper as he strokes the tears off Victor's cheeks, a soft smile on his lips to go with the sad, but soft look in his eyes. “I will write you the most beautiful letters. I will write you every day and every night, and you shall never feel alone, because I will always be there with you, as long as we live under the same stars.”

Victor manages a sad laugh, taking his hands off Henry only long enough to sniffle, rubbing the tears out of his eyes, before his hands move back to Henry's cheeks, stroking his cheekbones. What beautiful, _beautiful bones_ he has, his Henry. 

“I have always fancied you a romantic, and always have I been right.”

_The man leads him inside a house, one in which it is still cold, but not as cold as outside by far. Victor loosens his tight grip on his coat, shuffling his hands into the pockets at his sides instead._

_He steps forward, toward the bench on which a body lays. Despite the white sheet that covers it, he can tell from experience that it must be a body. It gives a certain tension to the room, makes it feel as if the air is somehow stiff. It is odd._

“Promise me you will always be my romantic, my romantic only?”

Victor whispers as he leans closer, wishing he could cry and trash about, digging his fingers into the pale beauty's skin, kiss him and hold him close forevermore. 

“I promise, my dear Victor. I promise you.”

_Victor cries out and falls to his knees when the man pulls back the sheet to reveal a blond, bloody head, the skin pale, with the face of his romantic._

_He cries, and the pain when his knees hit the cold floor almost feels too good. He raises his fists, hits the ground, again and again, tears streaming from his face like water from a spring._

_There, on the cold bench, in a foreign village, lies his romantic. His friend, his poet, his lover, his one and only Henry Clerval._

“I love you.” Victor whispers against Henry's lips, still blinking away tears as he leans closer to his lover.

“I love you just as much, my dear Victor.” Henry whispers in return, before pressing his lips to the other boy's, for that is all they are. They are only boys, nothing more. 

_He will have revenge on the one who did this. He will tear them apart and set them on fire, he will give himself to avenge the death of his one and only, but nothing will ever bring his Henry back and knowing that destroys him._

_Nothing will ever bring his romantic back. How can he ever inflict the same pain on the one who did this to his love as he feels now? How can he make them regret having taken the kindest of souls from this earth in cold blood?_

“Victor.”

“Henry.”

“Victor.”

“Henry.”

“Victor!”

_“Henry, my Henry!”_


End file.
